Rating: NR | Runtime: 119 minutes
Release Date: March 17th, 2023 (Canada) / August 4th, 2023 (USA)
Studio: Elevation Pictures / Vertical Entertainment
Director(s): Clement Virgo
Writer(s): Clement Virgo / David Chariandy (novel)

There’s so much love jumping off the screen throughout Clement Virgo’s Brother. No matter how tragic things might turn, this adaptation of David Chariandy’s novel never loses that sense of attachment whether to a place, a history, a partner, or family. Everything Ruth (Marsha Stephanie Blake) does is for her boys. Everything they do is for her. Sometimes it’s unnecessary and sometimes it’s counterproductive and harmful instead, but the weight and responsibility these characters hold is always immense and pure and true.

The question then is how do they traverse the minefield that is loving in a world full of hate? You stick close. You dream. That’s what Ruth did bringing young Francis (Jacob Williams) and Michael (Sebastian Nigel Singh) to Canada. That’s what Francis (Aaron Pierre) does when he decides to quit school and pursue music. And what Michael (Lamar Johnson) does when he takes a leap of faith to pursue starting a life with the woman he’s loved since childhood (Kiana Madeira’s Aisha). You dream and push forward no matter the failures or heartbreak. You hope the pain doesn’t consume you with fear.

Because dread is always present. It’s born from the news, lived experience, and assumptions ignited by silence. It becomes something to fear itself too like when Francis blames Michael despite it really being him who is afraid—refusing to show weakness. There’s a mix of toxic masculinity and assimilation in play. As well as the idea Francis must be strong not only for himself, but also his mother and brother with his father out of the picture. He wears a mask to ease Ruth’s already immense burden and let Michael be more. He listens to old records in his room but steps out as an enforcer in the streets to command respect. He tries teaching Michael that confidence is everything. Until even that stops being enough.

We move between three distinct periods of time in the life of this family: their optimistic yet scary days as boys, the complex push and pull of desire and frustration that marked their late teens, and the solemn present ten years after everything irrevocably changed. Virgo shuffles through each, hinging his segues on emotional resonance as much as narrative parallels—moving from joyful smiles to indignation and eventually defeat.

It’s Aisha’s return to the neighborhood that sparks everything. But her presence forces Michael to look back and want to hide rather than remember. He projects that desire upon his mother too, shielding her from reliving the suffering they both barely escaped from the first time until we can’t help wondering if his need to protect her has actually made things worse. What is it he’s so afraid of anyway? What happened to turn this once bright home into a tomb?

The answers won’t be what you think. At least not completely. What makes Brother so riveting is that it plays with expectations in ways that allow us to be surprised. We’re supposed to assume this will be another tragic tale of underprivileged kids caught in a system of violence until we realize Francis has been exploiting that system and preconceptions to escape it on his terms. The script then layers in new revelations to better paint the complicated picture of this hulking yet sensitive man who’d run through walls for those he loved. None of it is introduced to steal focus, though. Only to enhance.

This isn’t therefore a “message movie” wielding hot-button topics like immigration, homophobia, and racism as weapons trained on the audience at the expense of the characters themselves. No, those aspects are merely part and parcel to living as Black men in a world that continues to treat them like second class citizens. Virgo and Chariandy ultimately use them to add to the depth of humanity on display. The contradictions inherent to existence. The point of no return wherein playing the game no longer supplies enough reward to keep pretending.

It’s an intense film as a result. One that winds tighter as it progresses so that its final reveal packs the punch it deserves. By coming in waves of memories and flashbacks, however, that gut punch is also countered by a glimmer of hope very quickly. Virgo is weaving through ups and downs with a deft rhythm to ensure we never get too high or low. And Johnson and Pierre provide the journey the authenticity necessary for its sprawling drama to feel lived. Blake is the heart (cue her grassroots Oscar campaign now), but these men supply its soul.

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Lamar Johnson and Aaron Pierre in BROTHER; courtesy of Vertical.